At The Hairdresser

I took G along to a salon in Uppermill to get her hair cut today. Mrs J is determined that G should grow her hair out, so I was under strict instructions to ensure this was just a little tidy-up. Walking in I counted three hairdressers and three customers, all women, so with G there too I was outnumbered seven to one. Not quite the worst ratio I've ever experienced, but enough to take me out of my comfort zone. I haven't had my hair cut in a salon since I was about 12, so I really have no idea what to do in these places.

As the hairdresser got started, I noticed little bits of something in the top of G's hair. "Oh, that's probably left over from her breakfast," I said, truthfully. G's hair often gets in her way (she usually refuses hair clips point blank), so I think nothing of picking tiny bits of own-brand Shreddies out of it during the morning. But I can't imagine the women were particularly impressed that I'd led my daughter's hair get into such a state.

At least G was well-behaved throughout, helped by the In The Night Garden magazine I'd got for the occasion. And her hair's immaculate now too, at least until breakfast time tomorrow.